Jaina
by Vonsaire
Summary: She knew what she had to do. It was her duty to obey Medivh. But the shifting winds began to lead her North, where she would have to confront her and her world's most dangerous monster- the man she once loved.
1. Chapter 1

His white hair streamed like a frozen river, hard edges glinting with the pale, breathless sun. His face had no shine, no whispers of the light that once caressed his warm skin, no glow that reached out with welcome to whoever would accept its embrace. He was nearly dead now, though the concept seemed strange to him; he himself had never felt more alive. The adrenaline, the numbing cold, weaved together a high pulse, and combatted the starving ache that clawed and tore and gnashed at his insides so incessently. And unbeknownst to him, he was no longer a who, but a what- the who shouted from caverns of black somewhere inside his draining soul. Arthas, the death knight, anguished lover of the parasitic Frostmourne, stood without shame in his father's blood.

The time was now. The high elves sat helpless to the Lich King's prized champion, though their doom was aided by one of their own. Dalaran would fall next. Dalaran, the home and study and life of Jaina Proudmoore...Arthas felt no emotion at the imagining of her corpse. Perhaps, he thought with optimism, it would be preserved enough to fight alongside his army. A smile creeped along his white lips. Isn't that what they had always hoped for, to fight alongside one another? The course of his thoughts shifted rapidly, as a cruel voice haunted the air around him like a chilling breeze. Arthas listened intently and only stopped to summon his companion; it was with an ethereal shriek that Invincible appeared before him, and yet the ghoulish horse commanded from Arthas just a mere glance. The message had been received. Mounting the skeletal demon, Arthas headed east, without even a thought to the death he left behind.

The Sunwell must be taken.

The news of Arthas' betrayal had not escaped her ears. Blonde hair, lush and soft as spring's grass, fell about her shoulders in pretty angles and curls. Pink flushed her face, and her angry lips scintillated with the color of the reddest roses. She was no doubt a beauty, seemingly unaffected by the grief that had befallen her, but for her shrouded eyes that now glimmered with the gray mist of sorrow. Jaina could solely wonder at the creature her dearest friend had become. She was there when it had began, she was certain. What did she do wrong? Could she have altered the destiny upon which he had seemingly, continuously, flung himself?

A knock on the door interrupted her ruminations. Kael'thas hurried in, the door closing automatically behind him, as though it was a servant bowing before his might. The stress of the fall of Lordaeron played obvious across his handsome face as he sat down beside her. She witnessed his distress, and quickly threw herself into him in a frantic collapse. His arms enclosed around her, but his words frothed with hatred, as he snarled, "Monster! To think you were ever in his arms once. The thought is intolerable!"

She stifled a sob. Arthas was good then. She knew it. She felt it. But to tell Kael'Thas that was a dangerous venture. Instead she buried her head within the haven of his chest. They rested quietly for awhile, each one's mind lost in the troubles of Azeroth, each one's presence providing a safe respite for the other. Finally Kael whispered, "Don't go."

The gray mist in Jaina's eyes parted to reveal a deep, sparkling blue. "I know it will be hard on us. But he was right about what has happened. They all failed to listen. There is no more room for failure."

"My ancestors left Kalimdor for a reason. We cannot abandon this land; it is a symbol of our freedom to practice as we please."

"And by returning you will save this land," Jaina retorted. The prophet had told her to go West. She would not budge. She would not be like the others. Kael noted her resolve and held back his reply. Anyone who had been in Dalaran long enough knew that Jaina Proudmoore did what her spirit believed was right, no matter what the obstacles.

Her voice cooled as she said gently, "Let us enjoy this time together. I will be fine. As you know, some of your own will be traveling with me." He nodded before lifting her head so that their eyes met. Entwined, their gazes wove together for a lingering moment, until he leaned forward and pressed her lips against his own.

Suddenly the halls rallied as though with thunder, and Jaina and Kael both sat up instantenously. The sound dissolved as it approached, appearing to be the rushing shuffling of thousands. Jaina stood up-her head a chaotic vortex of chants- and readied herself for the worst. Kael was no slower, but as the sound neared, they found no need for fear.

"Jaina!" A familiar voice rang out, albeit a little out of breath. The door swung open and in came one of the trainees. He bowed before them in a fast and imperceivable manner before bursting out, "Quel'Thalas has fallen!"

They found need for grief.


	2. Chapter 2

The news floated in the air for eternal seconds, and to Kael only slithered past him in wisps of dreams, singing in somnelence above his disbelieving ears. He could only stand and stare as it approached his comprehension, in a slow mist and a betraying tune, approaching him as though it were his own death. Then it hit him. It hit him as a crushing, one that left him breathless and limp, that made his heart churn and cry out, that forced his soul right out of him, leaving his whole self empty and starving. Fear released its hellish smile upon his thoughts, but it was somehow dull compared to the pain. Dull, because there was no unknown to make him writhe in panic; Kael, now a sickened ghoul, knew that the very worst he could imagine had happened.

"My father...He is dead?" The others would not have been able to hear him had it not been so silent.

"M-my Lord...Y-yes. It is so. I believe the city has little to no surviv-" An enraged glance from Kael'Thas cut off his words.

"Leave us!" he shouted, half desperate, half outraged. The trainee evaporated as he slid into the dark hall.

Jaina kept quiet, though her eyes screamed with despair, the gray mist returning to cloud the fading blue. Her hand made its way to the shoulder of the now seated Kael. In a rapid movement of violence, he shrugged her hand off; his eyes glittered with erupting shards of red, and his lips turned up in hatred.

"Don't! I don't need your pity." He paused, his mind racing, before adding, "But I do need your prowess. Stay, Jaina. I need you more than ever. Together we can stop him. Together we can-" Jaina shook her head sadly as she backed away from him. He jumped up and grabbed her, shaking her, his gaze at once pleading and commanding.

"Let go!" she yelled, and the ferocity in her voice left no room for disobedience.

He complied, but with one sweep of his strong arms, smashed her books upon the ground. "When you come to your senses," he whispered, his tone dark and eerie, "You know where to find me." He rushed out of the room without another word, and Jaina found herself alone again.

She glanced at the mirror hanging crooked on her wall, not at all surprised by the furrows and lines of worry that traveled along her face.

* * *

Jaina walked among the ruins of a place she could not quite remember. Gray buildings, morose and colorless and tainted, surrounded her, taunting her with a memory just beyond her reach. It was clear to her that nature could not reclaim this land; no flowers, no greenery, no life at all was to be found. Yet the buildings seemed to have been deserted for ages. She felt small in the loneliness that permeated in the green haze as she walked, and her heart ached more and more with a mysterious longing. Suddenly she doubled over, clawing recklessly at her chest, blood flooding her pale lips in little rivers.

"H-he-help," she whispered, barely audible due to the strain that suffocated her fragile voice.

It was some sort of magic, but whose? Who would be in a place like this? She couldn't think-she couldn't remember.

"Be free." A voice wrapped around her from the mists. It was familiar...Though it bore an inhuman edge-yes, she knew it now-it was a voice she could trust. The demonic episode that overtook her vanished, such was the power of this voice, and though she turned abruptly, could find the voice's owner nowhere in this rotting land.

"I'm glad you've come. It seems as though you must delay your trip after all. It is too late to save your home, but it is far from late to stop Arthas Menethil."

She spun around in a crazed whirl in his direction, but all that remained of her heroic messiah gleamed in fluttering black. "Please, let me see you, and thank you." The hair on her back instantly raised, power and force reaching for her with unseen hands, and she stood constricted and chilled.

He showed himself soon after.

He hung in the air, aerial and limp, with his neck in a lifeless tilt to the side...a messenger from some other realm. Darkness cascaded in loose robes around his form, and sheathed his face that lurked beneath his cowl. A crow lunged over him, its wings struggling to evade the raging currents of the rift that was his throne. Unshrouded, a livid finger, bony and long, lingered over the pathway to the center of the ruins. Then, before Jaina could even process all that she had seen, his figure shook as though in heaven's storm. Compressed and stretched and distorted, he began to vanish into black whirlwinds. Out of the swirling darkness came his spinning visage, towers of decaying flesh rising over a long grin, blood dripping off teeth and horns. Entranced, Jaina took a step forwards, but when she lost her footing, she awoke into the embrace of her warm bed.

"My trip...it must be delayed," she said, her voice foreign and lacking. "Dreams such as those can only be from prophets." Anyone from Dalaran who knew Jaina Proudmoore could have heard the doubt in her voice, but in the message glimmered an allure that even her will refused to resist.

* * *

Jaina knocked on the door of Kael Thas' chambers. Impatient to share her revelation, she jiggled the handle.

"Excuse me!" coughed an aged voice, and it cleared its throat of dust and wood.

Jaina raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, keeper. I always forget he imprisoned you in there."

"It shouldn't be hard to remember, dumb girl. Nothing ever changes. Nothing is going to change. I keep asking when I'm going to be released, but-"

"Yes, yes I know. Perhaps when you feel remorse for your treachery, imp. Now allow me entry."

The imp released a smoky chortle. "Kael'Thas is not home. Come back tomorrow, princess."  
He added with an indignant tone, "Oh and good luck getting in here. I'm under strict orders to let no one in. Besides, I'm not the only seal he put on this door."

The demon imp was right. Frustrated, Jaina leaned against the wall, her lips pursed.

_When you come to your senses..._

They hadn't left each other on the best terms, but she knew he would welcome her presence. He had always been there, waiting, even when she was with...She shuddered at the thought of Arthas. Kael'Thas' plea for her aid drifted into her mind. So, he truly was serious about challenging Arthas. He wouldn't have left without her, right?

_When you come to your senses..._

_You know where to find me. _

Jaina's eyes widened with a burst of glinting blue. Her smile mischievous, she took off, the imp calling after her, "Where do you think you're going?"

She laughed and shouted back, her voice echoing within the stone halls, "Quel' Thalas!"

A faint curse word from the imp managed to float its way into her ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Kael sat with the last survivors of his race. Though all high elves, he could not recognize them as such. Their gaunt faces sunk with sorrow, their pale lips blended in with yellow skin, and their lightless eyes drowned all hope of renewal. Blood and tears bestowed a frenzied appearance to their once opulent garments. Still, Kael would ask them to fight.

"I thought I would find you here."

Kael turned to see Jaina, radiant as the heavens in this bleak land. She wore cloth over her mouth and nose, probably to avoid the stench of death, something he no longer noticed. Part of him celebrated her presence with a dull release of joy, and part of him mourned it- she did not belong in a place like this.

"I've seen it all before," Jaina said with strength and softness. "I will help your people, Kael'Thas, and together we can attempt to destroy Arthas-" Kael grabbed her arm, intending to and suceeding at interrupting her, before saying, "Let's take a walk."

They strolled in silence through the ashes and remnants. Jaina grimaced, waves of blue smoldering like fire within her eyes, as she surveyed the ground. Rotting, colorless limbs decomposed in pools of black slime. Bones stuck out of crevices, frays of skin patched randomly upon them. With a violence almost painful, Jaina's insides churned; she turned her eyes forward-the sight was too much-until smoke enslaved her vision and crawled into her lungs.

"I burned the bodies of my bretheren," Kael said, and his voice was bland and tired. "I burned what was left of our forests, so the scourge would have nothing to further corrupt."

How she then wanted to take him into her arms! His sallow eyes, oceans of dark skin sinking beneath them, made her heart burst in agony and longing. Her vision no longer clouded by the ravenous smoke soon became obscured by the mists of tears.

"One body I could not find." They had reached the throne room of Silvermoon. A skull sat upon the adorned throne- Anasterian. "The only thing of him that remains." Next to the skull beckoned reforged Felo'melorn, scintillating, smiling, screaming with power. It reassured them both in its newfound might.

"When did you-" Jaina's shock surpassed her words and voice.

He did not answer, but held the blade in his hands, and his blonde hair curtained his face as he looked down upon it. The hall in its wide expanse emphasized the solitude, the emptiness, the lifelessness that Jaina felt in these long moments. Kael seemed engrossed, immune to all, as he stroked the sword in a mechanical rhythm. His fingers bled from the slightest contact with the blade's edge, but he did not cease his caress. Finally, his voice lifted into the air- battled the silence- before drowning into the nothing, "This...is what will save my people."

Jaina bit her lip in worry. Obsession can turn something admirable into something hideous, dangerous. She had seen it all before.

Suddenly he looked up, and the curtains of blonde parted to reveal his crazed smirk, his frenzied emerald eyes that fragmented with hatred.

"Blood elves. We are the blood elves." And he licked the red blood from his white fingers with a creeping grin.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, I brought you something," he said in his usual mirth. His freckles crinkled with his nose as he smiled. The gift was hiding behind his back, just in that teasing manner she loved so much, but she could guess at what it was. Every summer when she came to visit, he went out on his horse and came back with a handful of her favorite flowers. Why would this summer be any different? Still, she played along.

"Show me!"

He shook his head as though something grave had happened, but his eyes scintillated with laughter and youth and merriment- everything she loved about him.  
"Show me those flowers, Arthas," Jaina said, a little taunt in her voice.

"No, I don't think I will. You'll have to fight me for them."

"Would you really challenge a mage of Dalaran?"

"Yes I would, mainly because you are a soon-to-be mage, and not a real mage." He waved the flowers in front of her slowly before sticking them behind his back. "A real mage would just take them from me."

Jaina grabbed his arm and gave it a tug. "Give them up, or you shall be sorry."

He laughed, and the sound was hearty enough to fill her ears and her soul. "You're fun, Jaina. When I'm with you, I have fun."

* * *

"Please, please! Let us take a break!" A night elf pleaded with her companion. "I doubt even _he _is moving so quickly."

Her fellow traveler only grunted in response.

"Patience. We can allow for it, despite our situation," the night elf said- her voice holding more command than inquiry. She looked upon the ground and frowned before placing her cloak down. "This land...Elune save it." She lowered herself onto her cloak and released a morose sigh.

Her ally stood next to her, shifting her weight in anxiety, surveying the land in consuming anticipation. "It would be no surprise to find that this taint is his doing, Tyrande," she said, and her eyes still ravaged the horizons for any signs or clues.

Tyrande Whisperwind brushed a strand of blue hair away from her tired face. "I could not doubt it, either. But let us not speak of it. He was dear to me once."

Maiev Shadowsong tilted her head in a slight and quick movement- she never was one to waste time- to portray her consent. To her, words stood unnecessary, emotions stood as enemies. She could suffer nothing that would impede her search for Illidan Stormrage. "Let's keep moving." She bent down and slid a gloved hand over the blackened grass. "Something here is amiss."

* * *

Heat numbed her palms as flames, small swirls of red and blue devouring one another, merged into one meteor of fire. With a cry she thrust the fire forward, no thought or feeling left to accompany the departure. The undead before her burst and simmered; looks of agony haunted their decomposed, inhuman faces. Was it agony? They were so far from what they had once been that she could no longer tell. She conjured up a frost bolt this time, slowing a mob of past farmers that were heading in Kael's direction. This was the second raid they had encountered this week. The undead were stirring, and more than just the land. In Jaina they resurrected memories she had long since banished. Leaving behind bones and burnt flesh, another fireball erupted from her delicate hands. She was here, where she had fought the restless dead with Arthas. She was here, but he was not. Instead, he was a murderer, serving alongside whatever had caused the plague to begin with. It was almost laughable to her embittered soul.

When finally the last of them crumbled to the ground, Kael' Thas walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You look distraught, Jaina."

"This won't be the last of them."

He paused before saying, "I know." His tone grew hot as he added, "It just doesn't make any sense. Why are they coming back? There is no army for them to join. Arthas is long gone."

Jaina turned and looked up into his eyes, forests wreathed with gold sunlight and dark shadows. "Is he?"

Kael' Thas grit his teeth. "If he isn't, I'd like to pay him a visit."

Jaina shrugged in a tired apathy as she said, "They attacked him at one point, remember? Someone else is behind all this."

He looked absent minded, and Jaina knew her words were useless. "Whatever the case, promise me one thing." She was demanding it of him, and he knew it.

"Yes?"

"Keep your head on straight."

He laughed-a quiet, subtle sound, like whispers on a river- before kissing her forehead.

"Of course, my lady."

They had been in Quel'Thalas, or the remnants of it, when Arthas had destroyed Dalaran. Now they were somewhat on their feet; the survivors had been healing, and they had supplies to live on for awhile. That had to be enough. She shoved the thought out of her mind, unwilling to fall prey to the monstrous guilt lurking behind her mental fortitude. She had seen it in Kael, feeding the ravenous hatred and sorrow, twisting his soul with darkness and raw emotion. He was prone to outbursts and they reminded her too much of...

_You are so close._

A violent pain seized her. It was as though many claws were reaching out, ripping at her in desperation, weaving her in shrouds of black suffocation. She fell to her knees.

"Jaina!" Was it Kael's voice? He sounded so far away...

_See? You can stop him after all, just like I told you. He is not far._

Screaming. She could hear it; it sounded rough and bleeding, disgusting...was it her own?

_He will return home... Stop him, Jaina. Only you can. _

Using all the mental strength she had within her, she called out to the voice, _I've been here. Unknowingly I let Dalaran fall. I'm no closer than I was when I first heard you, deceiver!_

_That's why I'm bringing him to you_.

Jaina collapsed onto the ground, wheezing and coughing up her own blood, before relinquishing her consciousness.

When she awoke, it was to an unfamiliar face. Tyrande sat over her, green energy and leaves twisting from within her palms. Jaina started. "W-what?" Though she had heard of the night elves, they were a sight to which she was unaccustomed. Kael leaned over her.

"Don't worry, Jaina. She's a friend. She has healed you." A flicker of interest sparked in Tyrande's eyes, but passed almost instantaneously. Jaina watched her carefully, unable to free herself from suspicion and mistrust. "We may have found who is behind all of this," Kael continued. "A creature named Illidan. This is Tyrande," he motioned to the night elf with his graceful hand, "and with her is a warden named Maiev. They have been tracking this Illidan for days now. It seems he has been sighted outside of Dalaran, or so my scouts tell me." He talked with speed and passion.

Ice spread its roots from her heart to her limbs as though it were an ancient tree. Dalaran. The name itself made her stomach churn. She couldn't stop him from destroying her home, the city of her friends and kin...No, she couldn't think of it. "How long have I been out?" Jaina asked in a dry voice.

"A few days now, " Kael said, as though it were nearly incidental. "What overcame you we may never know. But you are safe now." He ran his fingers through her hair, and his fingers mimicked a gentle breeze. "But I must go. We are taking the camp over the river to protect ourselves from this blight. You must rest. I refuse to leave you behind." Cold in its hunger rushed in as Kael' Thas exited the tent, but Tyrande stayed. She waited, as though she wanted to make sure he was gone, and spoke with a voice softer than the rustlings and whispers from the forests of her homeland.

"Jaina. Jaina Proudmoore, is it?"

Jaina's brow furrowed. What had Kael told this stranger?

"I was expecting to meet you, but not here."

Aghast, Jaina said nothing, her lips encased in ice.

Tyrande's face revealed nothing. "I thought surely he would have visited you, and told you that we were to meet."

"Who?" Jaina said. Could she know Arthas?

"A prophet, Medivh. He goes in form of a bird. He told me you were coming West some time ago. It's of no importance now. Archimonde has fallen."

She remembered seeing him after Stratholme, when she had agreed to listen to him when no one else would. But then he had appeared to her in a dream, and ever since he had been communicating with her. Updating her on Arthas and promising her his defeat.

"I know him," Jaina stated warily, her blue eyes flashing, stormy. "He had a change of plans for me."

Tyrande's visage sung of shadows -she drew her brows together- in a moment only visible to one who watched in diligence. The fleeting second gone, her countenance returned to its unreadable state, and she responded flatly, "I wouldn't trust a prophet who changes his mind."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all who are reading! This is going on a bit longer than I anticipated, mainly because of all the lore. Kael was really busy XD. The memories of Arthas will serve a purpose, too. I hope it's not too confusing. Thanks again!


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